


things you said at 1 am over the phone

by dicksargents (BlondeTate)



Series: trc drabbles [3]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drabble, F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlondeTate/pseuds/dicksargents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>but then you hear his voice and it’s like learning to breathe again. you gasp his name and he sighs yours and, - it’s transcendent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things you said at 1 am over the phone

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr for the "things you said" prompt meme [here.](http://dicksargents.tumblr.com/post/122543631713/bluesey-1-and-4-combined)

talking to gansey is your favorite part of the day.

everything always goes the same. you wake up in the morning with the usual tension in your stomach, avoid the stares of various worried family members and maybe grab a yogurt for breakfast if you’re feeling up to it. (no fruit at the bottom, not anymore.) after hours of rotting in a chair at school that no longer seems to hold your interest, surrounded by people who, at the end of the day, know nothing about you and what you’ve been through, you’re allowed a few hours of free time at home which you fill with homework because you need to pass your classes and graduate and because you would rather not be alone with your thoughts. then it’s time to take the dogs for a walk or prepare for your shift at nino’s and before you really know it, the streets outside are only illuminated by lampposts and the moon and you’re anxiously waiting for the majority of the women at 300 fox way to fall asleep so you could call the boy you love.

this is the routine which keeps you grounded to reality.

the part between the phone call and coming home from work is the most difficult because so often you have nothing to occupy yourself with and you become defenseless against dark thoughts trying to press into your mind, - but then you hear his voice and it’s like learning to breathe again.

you gasp his name and he sighs yours and, -

it’s transcendent.

your one a.m. phone calls aren’t as they used to be but they’re more essential than they’ve ever been. it’s scary how much you depend on hearing his voice at the end of your day because you know - you just know, you feel it in your bones - that one day he’s not going to pick up anymore and you will have to learn new ways to feel alive again. but as long as he answers, as long as he calms your mind and soothes your heart, you know you can’t physically stop yourself from calling him.

“gansey?” you sigh and he hums.

“yes?”

you don’t really want to ask. you don’t really want to know. but it’s been bugging you for weeks and the morbid hateful curiosity inside you demands an answer. “what’s it like?” you swallow. the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak. “the other side?”

he’s quiet. your breathing is audible in the silence because you’re trying not to cry but small gasping breaths escape anyway.

then he replies, “it’s pretty,” and you can’t decide if he’s honest or attempting to ease you. nevertheless, you’re not soothed. “it’s comforting. not as comforting as you, though.”

you inhale a shaky breath, wipe at your eyes. your bed feels cold and uncomfortable. the phone against your ear is just the opposite, too hot and warming still, but you press it harder to your cheek because it’s the only way to reach him now. it does not bring you closer to him but you can pretend.

isn’t that what you always did?

with your arms wrapped around yourself, cocooned under three blankets and still shivering, you breathe, “i miss you.”

but, you realize, he’s already gone. it’s not his fault, you know. these phone calls from the other side aren’t naturally common occurrences and they don’t come with a guidebook. sometimes he just gets cut off from the line without warning; sometimes you can talk for hours, sometimes only for minutes. he can’t control it.

but you still throw the phone against the wall in a fit of rage, uncaring about the noise it makes, angry at no one but the universe. you watch the machine laying helplessly on the floor for minutes, then, when you grow tired of glaring at a lifeless object, you fall back against your pillow and bury yourself under the blankets. trying to stop shaking but only making it worse.

you swear you will not do this again, that you will stop calling because this is no way to move on.

but that promise only lasts as long as the darkness outside and by sunrise, you’ve already changed your mind.

tomorrow you will call again. as you always do. there isn’t anything else left to do.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so in my mind gansey did not come back as a ghost but he could talk to blue from the other side on the phone and only through the phone. i know, it’s kind of weird, i don't know where it came from but the idea wouldn't leave me alone.


End file.
